Clow's Book of Prologue
by Larania Drake
Summary: A story of Clow Reed, who he had been, his visions of the future and his creations. Where they came from, why he made them and why he chose Sakura to take them when he died. A conundrum wrapped in an enigma hidden in a riddle- in a name: Clow Reed.


Clow's Book of Prologue

  
  


Disclaimer: Card Captor Sakura does not belong to me, instead it belongs to Clamp. This is based on the original anime, and is a prologue to the series.

  
  


He wished the damned thing would make sense for once. 

He stood alone, on an frozen, barren field, surrounded by distant monoliths casting long shadows, blocking the sun and moon. The two heavenly bodies were balanced on the horizon, for all the world like two mismatched, unblinking eyes. Their light was equal, the sun dim and the moon gleaming fiercely, both hiding the faces of the monoliths in their combined glare. Then the light faded from view, giving him a moment's clear vision- before the rectangular shapes scattered to the winds-

Leaving Clow Reed to awaken, sweating and panicky, in his bed.

~*~*~*~*~

  
  


It was a beautiful morning. There had been a light rain that night, leaving everything fresh and clean smelling. Spring flowers opened, lifting their blossoms to praise the sun, green leaves spread to receive its light and warmth.

A blue jay started pecking on the window... Who was this slow large creature, still abed when life was going on without him?

Fifteen year old Clow Reed, without bothering to crack open an eyelid, flicked a finger and said jay was a bright tartan, feathers on backwards and with a strange desire to peck bees.

He wasn't a morning person; especially after one of those dreams. He wanted to just close his eyes and curl back up into his nest of pillows, down comforter and linen sheets... He wanted to forget the terror those dreams instilled in him. 

His parents had told him that they would fade over time. His father's line had been marked with a great ability to foretell things- it had started with one of their ancestors- Merlin. His fate had been bound to that of a great king... and ultimately it had destroyed them. His had been the last great precognitive ability of their family.

It was said that the next would have a similar fate- that whoever had such an ability was bound to a destiny beyond himself. Such 'destinies' and 'fates' had a nasty habit of killing the unlucky idiot.

It wasn't going to be him! He was only fifteen and he was going to get AROUND this fate, or his name wasn't Clow Reed!

Now, if only he could figure out HOW to do it... Rolling over, groaning, he contemplated his ceiling. 

"They could just be funny dreams," he said to his walls. They never answered, but they listened wonderfully. "I mean, considering I had a dream that I was at the Yuletide Ball naked, and THAT is not happening, I don't have futuristic dreams all the time..."

"You don't have to," said a cool, amused voice from his door. Blinking through his messy black hair, young Clow saw his mother standing in his doorway, black eyes dancing despite her perfectly composed face. 

"Don't have to what?" he asked, and his mother turned away, with a final mysterious smile, and Clow gave up. 

No matter how much he might have wanted it, he couldn't stay in bed the rest of his life.

Damn.

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Day to day life was... regular day to day life at the Reed Keep. 

"Dad? Is it SUPPOSED to do that?" Clow demanded, with a teenager's usual ability to sound superior and all knowing yet horribly arrogant... It was a gift of his.

His father, Bran Reed, coughed as his most recent experiment went up in smoke.

"Maybe you should stick to magic?" his son said pleasantly, taking a handkerchief and wiping off the black soot. "Really, Dad... cooking just ISN'T something you're good at..."

The sour look he got from the older man could have peeled paint. Then he sobered, looking off into the distance-

"So THAT'S what I did!" he looked over at his measuring implements. Clow stared.

"You added... three CUPS of sugar... when you should have added... two tablespoons?"

"I misread the directions!" the older man proclaimed, gesturing grandly.

"Uh..." Clow peered at the incomprehensible scrawl and shook his head.

"What were you trying to make?"

"Pudding? Or was it pound cake? I couldn't tell..."

By then, the parchment was so covered in soot no one could tell.

"Dad... next time, stick to directions that you can read?"

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Clow bowed before the beautiful woman in front of him, already anticipating the pain of this next lesson. His mother, a warrior from the East, had left her prominent magical clan and come to the West as a mercenary. There she had met his silly, absentminded, absurdly powerful father who didn't have a lick of common sense.

Of course it was love.

But, back to the lesson...

He had been doing well this time- until he was caught by a sweep and crossed his wrists in front of him in time to stop her ax kick, which would have crushed his windpipe had it connected- his mother had stopped pulling her blows years ago. His much bruised body could attest to that. However, as she had taught him, pain was the fastest of teachers, and unfortunately, his teacher was his mother...

"Hold." Her one word brought the exercise to a close- and Clow went limp.

"If you weren't my mother," he muttered, and his teacher stood over him.

"You were distracted today... As there haven't been any new girls for you to ogle, your tutor says your grades are excellent, and your father wouldn't notice something bothering you if it hit him between the eyes, bless him. What is it?"

Clow ran his fingers through his short, sweaty black hair, considering. At the moment, what he wanted most was to chug water like a horse and will the sparks to stop dancing in front of his eyes. He peered through is messy hair at his mother- whose short wiry frame had yet to suffer the indignity of sweat- or even old age.

This nearly distracted him from the question, and he sat up, weaving to his feet, to go over and dunk his head into a barrel of rain water. How to tell her?

"Dreams, Mother." He couldn't lie. She might have no magical talent herself, but she could read a person like an illuminated manuscript. "Dreams... that make no sense, but they leave me feeling like, like... Someone walked on my grave. I can't sleep because they leave me so frustrated. Its a riddle I can't solve... and you know how CRAZY that makes me!" he finally growled, his disgust at not knowing overriding anything else. He also left out how scared they made him... His mother would not pity fear.

They both sat on the floor, his mother passing him a ladle of drinking water from a bucket of well water, head tilted expectantly.

Clow was struck by memories of his childhood- of how he had told her his nightmares as a boy in her solar, bright sunlight shining through the enormous windows and skylight, banishing his nameless fears with a smile and a kind touch. She was not a demonstrative woman. Now, instead of the solar, they were in the gloomy barn-cum-practice room, which smelled of sweat, straw and animal, but he was still confiding in his mother. 

He was grateful no one else was going to find out. His pals would probably tell him to sleep with a doll next.

Taking the ladle back, Zhi Ming Reed said nothing, getting herself a long drought of water. 

"You fear these dreams because of the stories in your father's family?"

"Yes," he admitted, realizing, once again, his mother could see right through him.

"Tell me of them."

He did, describing how he was first surrounded by giant monoliths, and he saw the sun and the moon, and how he always woke up. It was the same thing, over and over... 

Clow paused, realizing he had, yet again, given away WAY too much. 

"Perhaps, my son, the dream isn't over?"

He blinked at her. "Eh?" he answered intelligently.

"You wake yourself up. Maybe, you should watch this dream through to the end. Stop being afraid- Only by surrendering to fate, can you ever manage some control. Don't forget them, don't run away- embrace your dreams," she said, with an ironic smile at what would have been a positive, encouraging statement. Clow wanted to tear his hair out.

Her cool, rough hands cupped his face. "Destiny is never easy, cliche as it might sound. Its no coincidence that I met your father, or bore you."

"Mother," he said in a tiny voice, his adolescent voice breaking. "Mother, I'm afraid. Fate tends to kill people."

"You don't know that. Besides," and then her smile turned mischievous. "Chance happens."

Clow just blinked at her again.

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  


He tried to pay attention this time.

The giant rectangles, the sun and moon, all of it...

Staring at them, he realized... The shadows danced around him, and he could see faces on the monoliths. None looked at him, their expressions showing repose. The Sun and the Moon joined in the dance around him, and he felt somewhat lost... but this time he tried to reach out to them.

Then there was light.

//He was smiling down at the most wonderful woman in the world, her green eyes shining with love and hope. The past didn't matter, the future didn't matter, but she did. They were alone, no one there to witness their joy at their marriage, and he knew that saddened her somewhat, and he felt her sorrow keenly. Yet-//

Clow woke up again- and knew things would never be the same.

  
  


To be continued.

  
  


A/N: Is that pretty interesting? I had a brain fart about some of HOW Clow could see the future so well... And I really want to throw a wrench in with some of that. (Author laughs evilly, chokes, coughs)


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